


no value in the strength of walls that i have grown

by queenwithoutacrown



Series: lover of the light [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Companion Piece, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, frank's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 08:52:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13384377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenwithoutacrown/pseuds/queenwithoutacrown
Summary: Frank wants to move towards her, wrap his entire body around her and never let go. But he doesn't think it'd be well received. He couldn't make a single move if he wanted to anyway. His whole body is shaking, on the verge of a panic attack. Even breathing is a chore that feels too much.(His voice betrays him once more. So he grips her hand and lets his skin talk, even though his whole body is shaking with fear.)





	no value in the strength of walls that i have grown

Frank considers paying her boss a visit and have a nice little chat with him.

It's not like he'd ever actually go through with the idea, he knows all too well that Karen would put his head on the front door for all the world to see, justifiably so, but he does consider it for a short moment.

Because it's like this, Karen would walk through glowing embers, through every gunfire for this paper, as long as a story could make a difference. However small or insignificant it might seem to an outsider's point of view.

It kills him and yet he's bursting with pride with every article she publishes. But recently she's been quiet and preoccupied, never quite with him, two shades too pale even for her snow-white complexion.

She blames exhaustion, _work's been a lot lately_ , and he nods along.

It crosses his mind that the relationship they have, a little unconventional, nontraditional, might not be satisfying to her. That maybe she's grown tired of what they have. But then she's kissing him again, lips brushing against his soft as rose petals and the self-doubts recede.

Whatever they have, it's love and it's enough.

Still, she works too hard, sleeps too little. He's giving her some space. Let her regain her strength and work in peace, while he's doing what he does best. Especially with that stomach bug she's just overcome. They're never going to that diner ever again, Frank's sure of that.

The coffee was shit anyway.

 

*

 

He catches her when she falls, almost ripping open the stitches again she's so carefully worked on. One moment she's bent over the kitchen sink, her face white as a sheet and the next her eyes flutter shut and her knees give out.

She's small, almost frail in his arms. Fear is running wild inside his mind. He feels an erratic pulse, but a pulse nonetheless. It calms him far more than it should given the circumstances.

Karen doesn't faint.

She's watched him kill people right in front of her eyes and still lets him sleep beside her at night. She's told him about seven shots in a dark warehouse, about why she carries a gun, and still chases leads in the depths of night all on her own.

She's got a spine of steel.

She's unconscious in his arms and it doesn't make sense.

Frank carries her down the stairs, into the car. Drives like the devil himself is chasing him and it's sure as fuck not Murdock in his little boy's pyjama.

The distance to Metro General has never felt so long. He breaks more traffic laws than he can be bothered to count. It doesn't fucking matter. She might wake up in a moment's notices, chastising him for his overreaction, it doesn't matter.

With one hand he fumbles around with his phone. Claire's number is buried somewhere in his contacts and he really needs her help right now.

He has to do something, anything.

He can't lose her, can't even stomach the thought of it.

He just can't.

 

*

 

"I'm pregnant."

Frank'd expected everything, anything, but not this. He'd thought she might be sick and not tell him, sparing him because that would just be her, wouldn't it?

_Pregnant._

They are sitting in some random hospital room, with fluids hooked up to her and she's crying quietly and she's pregnant.

Frank wants to move towards her, wrap his entire body around her and never let go. But he doesn't think it'd be well received. He couldn't make a single move if he wanted to anyway. His whole body is shaking, on the verge of a panic attack. Even breathing is a chore that feels too much.

Karen isn't looking at him, staring at the hands in her lap. But then she looks up and their eyes are meeting across the space between them.

"You ever wanted to tell me that?"

He finds his voice again, but he's got no idea what he actually says. White noises washes over him, washes him away. He's just a body moving through the waves of an unknown sea.

"Yes. But I didn't know what to say without hurting you."

"Hurt me?" Frank feels his eyebrows rise into his hairline.

"I was just as unprepared for this as you. I know you don't want children. I understand." Her voice is a whisper, a fragment of her usual range.

He doesn't know what he wants. It's beyond him right in this moment, like standing on the edge of a cliff, free falling without a parachute. But the fact that she's thought about him before herself doesn't go unnoticed.

"Somebody should really nominate you for sainthood, Page."

"Patron saint of unplanned pregnancies at the worst possible timing? Sure, jot that down."

Her laugh, even if it's stained with tears, is a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day. Just how it has been since the day they've met for the first time.

But he has to ask her, has to know her answer to the one question burning away inside of him.

"Do you want this baby?"

She blinks, like a deer in the headlight. He can guess, but he needs her to say it anyway.

"Yes."

He wants to tell her that he wants to try, tell her he'd never leave her alone. His choices have always been his own, his love for her has always been real and there's nothing that could make him leave, except Karen telling him to go.

His voice betrays him once more.

So he grips her hand and lets his skin talk, even though his whole body is shaking with fear.

 

*

 

He thinks about Lisa and Frankie.

How could he not?

 _I can't do this again_ , echoes in his head like an endless scream and he just-

He's been at this place before, he's failed a family already, three people who'd all counted on him, and he can't fail another one. Some people just don't deserve a happily ever after and he's one of them.

How could he explain to a child that he's bathed in blood, that their siblings died and it's his fault.

He thinks of holding Lisa's dead body, comparing it to the memory of holding her as a newborn.

Thinks about doing it again.

He wants it, misses it. Being somebody's father had always brought him joy, even when he'd been so far away, even when he'd missed so many moments and memories.

Frank is so scared, he doesn't know how to breath, how to get through each day.

But there is Karen.

Who needs him, when another bout of nausea forces her to her knees and he rubs soothing circles on her back. Who smiles when he fixes her a cup of bland tea and drinks a cup with her.

He might go to hell one day, but it won't be because he's failed her.

 

*

 

Frank finds it on accident.

She's told him about the doctor's appointment, but he couldn't make it. His face is still too recognizable just now, he's gotta work on that in the months to come. Karen's shown him the pic she'd taken home with, but then it had mysteriously disappeared into the ether of the apartment.

She's trying so hard to make this easy for him, it kills him to watch her do it. Worrying about him should be the last concern on her mind right now.

But then he opens a kitchen drawer while she's at work and it's all but jumping at him.

Ultrasound pics have come a long way recently, he thinks. Still a grainy black and white image, but nowadays you can actually discern something. His thumb swipes over the small kidney-shaped blob.

It's a baby and it's theirs.

Tears gather in his eyes at the mere thought of the future visible on such a small piece of paper. Hope blooms, but it hurts. Everything he loves can be taken away from him, but he won't let it happen again.

Never again.

Frank takes one of the magnets from the fridge and attaches the pic with it. It's a good decoration, a reminder of what he's got in this life.

"Don't worry about me, please," he tells her later at night, after he has kissed away her tears, when she's safely wrapped inside his arms. "We'll be fine."

 

*

 

"To be honest, I thought it was a myth." Karen's panting into his ear. He smirks into her neck and drops a messy kiss on her jugular vein.

He can't claim any credit, he knows. It's the hormones, Frank knows that, still he deserves to be just a bit smug for getting her off for the third time in less than an hour.

"Yeah, no. Obviously."

"Obviously."

Sweat is pooling in the dip of her sternum. Frank's index finger marks a trail from her ear, over her breasts down to her abdomen. The pregnancy looks good on her, cute. The morning sickness has been replaced by horniness now and he's definitely not complaining.

He can help with that pretty well.

With his fingers he taps a rhythm against the swell even her blouses can't hide anymore. Karen's said she's felt them kick once or twice, a soft flutter like the wing beats of a butterfly in her words.

She claps one hand over his and he looks up into her eyes. "I've got my next appointment tomorrow. Do you wanna know if it's a girl or a boy?"

His movements still. Frank doesn't know if he's got a preference one way or another. He's had both, he's lost both. He really doesn't care as long as the baby is healthy, as stereotyped as it sounds. He wants to see them grow up.

"I do, if you do."

She laughs softly. "I don't, actually. It's probably the only secret I can sleep with easily."

"So there _is_ a line for you?" he gasps, mockingly. He tickles her side and Karen shoves his chest. 

"We'll keep it a surprise then?"

"Hmm."

"Good." 

 

*

 

In his dreams they die. His family, all of them. Always. Violently, mercilessly.

He forgoes sleep, eventually, as the months pass by.

_One batch, two batch, penny and dime._

He's gotta make the city as safe as possible, it quiets the demons inside him. Dealing with the blood of the shitstains littering Hell's Kitchen is easy, easier compared to the hell he is facing in his dreams.

Red doesn't approve, but he also doesn't dare say anything.

He's never gone for long, always mindful of the nightmares tormenting _her_ sleep, and she needs rest more than he does. He always returns without a stain of blood and dirt.

There shouldn't be any understanding in Karen's eyes, yet there is. She should think of him as a monster, as somebody not worth saving, but that ship has sailed long ago.

He kisses her deeply, one hand on her belly, convincing himself that she's real and alive.

That they are.

 

*

 

On April 4th Frank writes _call me immediately if something's wrong_ on a post-it, sticks it on his pillow in their bed and leaves without waking her. Karen's due date is still some time away, but they shouldn't take any chances.

It's not going to be beautiful day, not today, not like it had been back then. The sky's dark grey and it's a lot more appropriate.

He sits in front of their headstones for hours, until he's got pins and needles in his legs. It rains for a few hours, but he doesn't move. He's brought flowers, colourful dots in the grey landscape of graves.

He doesn't talk at all, silence the only currency he can deal with. On his way home he picks up some food and the chocolate brownies Karen loves so much.

Frank dumps all the food on the bed and crawls under the covers with her.

"You okay?" Karen asks.

He nods, leaning against the headboard. She uses his chest as a pillow to prop herself up and divides their dinner between them. Moving to the living room feels too much an effort.

They lose themselves in each other, lighthouses in a stormy sea, shining stars.

 

*

 

She's a little early and she's tiny. She's healthy and she's perfect and she's theirs.

_She is._

That's the quintessence.

She exists.

It's been so long and it's entirely different, but holding her is muscle memory. Newborns don't need much, they are undemanding. So Frank holds her in his arms or keeps her eyes on her when she's in Karen's.

He's still so fucking frightened his heart might stop.

But they've got this. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Lover Of The Light by Mumford & Sons  
> Tumblr: qqueenwithoutacrown
> 
> Please, please let me know what you think about this. Your comments are the light of life. Thank you for reading.


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